The Mole.

HUSBAND.
The boy's my very image! See!
Even the scars my small-pox left me!

WIFE.
I can believe it easily
They once of all my senses reft me.

Friedrich Schiller

Friedrich Schiller was a renowned German poet, philosopher, physician, historian, and playwright. Born on November 10, 1759, in Marbach am Neckar, and passing away on May 9, 1805, in Weimar, Schiller is considered one of the most important figures in German literature. His works, including 'Ode to Joy' and 'William Tell', have left a lasting impact on Western literature and thought.

Friedrich Schiller

The Maid Of Orleans.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

Beauteous Individuality.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Impulses.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Words Of Error.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

The Celebrated Woman. An Epistle By A Married Man To A Fellow-Sufferer.

[In spite of Mr. Carlyle's assertion of Schiller's "total deficiency in humor," ^[12] we think that the following poem suffices to show that he possessed the gift in no ordinary degree, and that if the aims of a genius so essentially earnest had allowed him to indulge it he would have justified the opinion of the experienced Iffland as to his capacities for original comedy.]

Can I, my friend, with thee condole?
Can I conceive the woes that try men,
When late repentance racks the soul
Ensnared into the toils of hymen?
Can I take part in such distress?
Poor martyr, most devoutly, "Yes!"
Thou weep'st because thy spouse has flown
To arms preferred before thine own;
A faithless wife, I grant the curse,
And yet, my friend, it might be worse!
Just hear another's tale of sorro...

Friedrich Schiller

The Meeting.

I see her still - by her fair train surrounded,
The fairest of them all, she took her place;
Afar I stood, by her bright charms confounded,
For, oh! they dazzled with their heavenly grace.
With awe my soul was filled - with bliss unbounded,
While gazing on her softly radiant face;
But soon, as if up-borne on wings of fire,
My fingers 'gan to sweep the sounding lyre.

The thoughts that rushed across me in that hour,
The words I sang, I'd fain once more invoke;
Within, I felt a new-awakened power,
That each emotion of my bosom spoke.
My soul, long time enchained in sloth's dull bower,
Through all its fetters now triumphant broke,
And brought to light unknown, harmonious numbers,
Which in its deepest depths, had lived in slumbers.

And when the chords h...

Friedrich Schiller

The Puppet-Show Of Life.

Thou'rt welcome in my box to peep!
Life's puppet-show, the world in little,
Thou'lt see depicted to a tittle,
But pray at some small distance keep!
'Tis by the torch of love alone,
By Cupid's taper, it is shown.

See, not a moment void the stage is!
The child in arms at first they bring,
The boy then skips, the youth now storms and rages,
The man contends, and ventures everything!

Each one attempts success to find,
Yet narrow is the race-course ever;
The chariot rolls, the axles quiver,
The hero presses on, the coward stays behind,
The proud man falls with mirth-inspiring fall,
The wise man overtakes them all!

Thou see'st fair woman it the barrier stand,
With beauteous hands, with smiling eyes,
To glad the victor with his prize.

Friedrich Schiller

To Laura. (The Mystery Of Reminiscence.) [2]

Who and what gave to me the wish to woo thee
Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee?
Who made thy glances to my soul the link
Who bade me burn thy very breath to drink
    My life in thine to sink?
As from the conqueror's unresisted glaive,
Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave
So, when to life's unguarded fort, I see
Thy gaze draw near and near triumphantly
    Yields not my soul to thee?
Why from its lord doth thus my soul depart?
Is it because its native home thou art?
Or were they brothers in the days of yore,
Twin-bound both souls, and in the link they bore
    Sigh to be bound once more?
Were once our beings blent and intertwining,
And therefore still my heart for thine is pining?
Knew we the light of some extinguished sun
The j...

Friedrich Schiller

Actaeon.

Thy wife is destined to deceive thee!
She'll seek another's arms and leave thee,
And horns upon thy head will shortly sprout!
How dreadful that when bathing thou shouldst see me
(No ether-bath can wash the stigma out),
And then, in perfect innocence, shouldst flee me!

Friedrich Schiller

The Infanticide.

Hark where the bells toll, chiming, dull and steady,
The clock's slow hand hath reached the appointed time.
Well, be it so prepare, my soul is ready,
Companions of the grave the rest for crime!
Now take, O world! my last farewell receiving
My parting kisses in these tears they dwell!
Sweet are thy poisons while we taste believing,
Now we are quits heart-poisoner, fare-thee-well!

Farewell, ye suns that once to joy invited,
Changed for the mould beneath the funeral shade;
Farewell, farewell, thou rosy time delighted,
Luring to soft desire the careless maid,
Pale gossamers of gold, farewell, sweet dreaming
Fancies the children that an Eden bore!
Blossoms that died while dawn itself was gleaming,
Opening in happy sunlight never more.

Swanlike the robe ...

Friedrich Schiller